


Lips Like Tangerine

by bloodvvitch



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Sex, Blow Job, Deepthroating, Dom Bruce Wayne, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Office Sex, Oral Sex, PWP, Sub Clark Kent, an attempt at aftercare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24226621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodvvitch/pseuds/bloodvvitch
Summary: Clark has to interview a very stressed Bruce Wayne.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 298
Collections: DC Universe





	Lips Like Tangerine

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this as part of Kinktober 2019, under the "angry sex" prompt. It's currently May, which tells you plenty about how my year is going. 
> 
> Happy quarantine, enjoy some stress relief!

“Kent?” the receptionist called, “Mr. Wayne will see you now.”

Clark pocketed his notes and stood up from the uncomfortably stylish chair. “Thank you, Kenzie.”

She smiled at him sweetly, and with no small amount of pity, before she leaned forward and stage-whispered, “Good luck in there, Clark. He’s been mad as hell all day.”

Oh, he knew. A lead on Cobblepot had run dry last night, and then this morning Wayne Enterprises had been outbid on a lucrative shipping contract by LexCorp. Bruce could not be in a good mood right now.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said with a grin, “I’ve faced meaner men than Bruce.”

Kenzie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Sure you have, Clark. But you weren’t married to them, were you?”

He just laughed and slouched his way into the office. The door shut behind him as he looked around; no broken furniture in sight, not even a chipped mug, which meant Bruce was either very calm or glacially furious. As usual, Bruce stood staring out at the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Brooding, most likely. His hands were clasped behind his back. He didn’t turn around when he spoke, his words clipped and cold.

“I thought Perry gave this to Lois.”

Clark flinched at the harshness but straightened his spine and squared his shoulders instead of taking the bait. 

“She’s down with laryngitis. I’m just here to ask her questions and record your answers.” Bruce didn’t react, so Clark continued. “If that’s okay with you, Mr. Wayne.” The fingers on his left hand twitched but he didn’t turn around. Clark took a seat in one of the chairs across from the large oak desk and pulled out his notes again, setting up the voice recorder in the middle of the desk. Bruce’s hand was on his before Clark could hit the start button.

“I will give Lane an in-depth exclusive on any aspect of my company,” Bruce rasped, “if I can postpone this fluff piece.”

“Your extensive donations to charity are not fluff, Bruce.” Clark held Bruce’s hand, thumb rubbing over the knuckles. “They matter. They matter to the people you help, and the people you inspire. You’re a good man, and the world should be allowed to see that.” At some point during his speech Bruce had closed his eyes. 

When his eyes opened again there was a familiar steel to them. “I’m not in the mood for charity, Kent.”

A shiver slipped down Clark’s spine. Bruce sat back in his chair, movements commanding and purposeful, then beckoned to Clark. He rose and let himself hover in the air for a moment. “Lois will kill me if I don’t keep my promise,” he said. Bruce smirked.

“I’ll talk to Perry, get her out of trouble.” He beckoned again, and Clark knew better than to resist a second time. He floated down to kneel in the space between Bruce and the desk. Bruce looked down at him and cupped his cheek. “It’s good of you to think about your friends.” His thumb passed over Clark’s lower lip, and Clark shuddered down to his toes. “But right now, I need you to be good for me. Can you do that, Clark?”

Clark could feel the bone-deep weight of Bruce’s gaze, the strength of the hand on his cheek, as he murmured “yes, Bruce.”

The belt was quickly unbuckled, fly undone, and then Bruce’s cock was free. He was already hard. Clark skimmed fingers down the shaft as he kissed the tip, reveling in the feel of silken hot skin against his lips. 

There was nothing better than this for Clark. The subtle shifts of blood under skin, the first stutters in a breath, the expanding of the iris; it all flowed as a symphony from the body in front of him. Bruce was rarely vocal, but to Clark he was never quiet.

But there was a time to savour, and a time to indulge Bruce’s whims. Clark parted his lips and took the head into his mouth, tonguing at the slit while his hand wrapped around the base. Bruce grunted softly and tangled his hand in Clark’s hair. Usually that was all Bruce would need, but today had been stressful and Clark could hear the slide of sinew and muscle, so he dropped his hand from Bruce’s cock and let his throat go lax in anticipation.

When Bruce shoved into his throat Clark didn’t gag, didn’t splutter. It was surprisingly like being in orbit – no air to breathe, nothing else calling his attention, and the odd weightless feeling that came with Bruce’s hand gripping him by the hair. Clark dissolved into it, letting Bruce pull his head up and slam him down onto his cock, over and over.

Bruce stilled for a moment, taught as a bow, and Clark pressed himself down further, humming and suckling as much as he was able. Bruce snarled and threw him off. His back hit the desk as Bruce stood up in front of him, one hand braced on the antique oak, the other twisted in Clark’s hair. In moments Bruce’s cock was back in his throat.

Bruce had been kind earlier, restrained and controlled. Now that control had shattered, and he was violent and brutal and greedy. He thrust his hips forward as he pulled Clark close, burying his cock as deep as possible, then dragged himself out until only the tip remained on Clark’s tongue. Again and again he would do this, cock driving down Clark’s throat. And Clark loved it. It was so rare to see Bruce lose control of something as small as his breathing, but to lose control of his emotions, his lust? Clark wanted to bathe in this moment for the rest of his life.

As Bruce’s thrusts became more erratic Clark felt his brain fog over. Bruce was using him, taking from his body with no regard for what Clark wanted and that… fuck that was hot. Then Bruce was coming with a shout.

The first spurt landed on Clark’s tongue, scorching and slick, and Bruce thrust back into him. Clark’s nose was forced into the soft hairs of Bruce’s groin as he felt come flood his throat. Bruce’s cock was twitching, his stomach shuddering as he gasped. The hand in Clark’s hair didn’t loosen its grip and the cock stayed deep in his throat for minutes afterward.

Once Bruce had his breathing under control he straightened and used one hand to fix his tie, run a hand through his disheveled hair, and then reach forward and press a button on the office phone. The other hand kept Clark’s head in place as he suckled on Bruce’s softening cock.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne?” Kenzie’s voice came through the phone’s speaker.

“Do I still have that appointment with Lutz in ten minutes? Or has he flaked again?” Bruce’s voice was impeccably unaffected.

“No, Mr. Wayne. I just got paged by security that he’s checked in with the front desk.”

“Finally. Tell Jackson to let him up in five.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Thank you, Kenzie.”

“Yes, Mr. Wayne,” she said, sounding faintly pleased.

Bruce ended the call and looked around his office for a few moments before glancing down at Clark. He plucked out his neatly folded pocket square and used it to catch his cock as he finally pulled it out of Clark’s mouth, wiping himself down before doing up his pants and belt. Clark swayed on his knees and stared dazedly up at Bruce as he took a seat and leaned forward.

“Clark,” he said, running a thumb over the corner of Clark’s lips, “you’re not breathing.”

The moment he realized it, Clark couldn’t get enough air, gasping for something he didn’t need. He spluttered and coughed as Bruce held the pocket square in front of his mouth. When Clark was done Bruce gently wiped his lips and chin, soothing him with the fingers still threaded in his hair. 

“I should-” Clark’s voice felt hoarse, his words slurring. “I should go… before…” he gestured to the door.

Bruce’s eyes hadn’t lost their steel. “Clark, no one enters my office unless I tell them to. No one.” He cupped Clark’s cheek and pulled them closer, burying his face in Clark’s hair. They just breathed for a moment, calming themselves. Then Bruce placed his lips next to Clark’s ear and whispered, “Take whatever time you need. I’m right here, sweetheart. You’re safe, you’re-” Clark started laughing.

“I’m okay, Bruce.” He tilted his head and caught his husband in a quick kiss. “I’m okay, I liked it.”

“Fuck,” Bruce sighed. “Okay.” Clark reached up and adjusted Bruce's collar minutely, taking a moment of domesticity to settle them both. “Clark… fuck, I needed that.”

“I know, love. And now you need to meet with Mr. Lutz.”

“Where is he?”

Clark glanced behind him. “The elevator’s paused on the fifth floor. We have, maybe, a minute.”

“We have as much time as I say we have.” Bruce had that stubborn look in his eye, the one Dick had always called the ‘rich-boy-meets-reality’.

Clark stood, taking extra care to project steadiness and calm. Then he ran to the bathroom, fixed his hair, washed his face, adjusted his neglected cock to make himself less obvious, and was back in front of Bruce in time to collect the papers that had flown off his desk. Bruce just leaned back in his chair and quirked one eyebrow. 

“Am I supposed to be impressed by that display?”

“Nope,” Clark grinned, “that was purely functional. Now, I’m going to tell Lois that my recorder stopped working and spend the rest of the afternoon writing out your answers to her very important questions.”

Bruce sighed in relief. “This is my last appointment, but it might go long. I’ll review them when I get home.”

“Thank you.” Clark leaned down for one last kiss, then straightened and held out his left hand. “Mr. Wayne, it’s been a pleasure.”

Bruce took it, running his thumb over the gold-plated titanium of Clark’s wedding band, a relaxed smile playing at his lips. “Likewise, Mr. Kent.”


End file.
